Rewards
by Drink Sparky Cola
Summary: An alternative ending to episode 1.11 has the convicts contemplating how far they've come and their motivations for continuing on.


AN: This is my reaction to the eleventh episode, in that this should have been the subplot instead of that silly stolen watch thing. Also, I can't remember if the cons receive a month off for every convict they nab or every case they are brought in on, but for the purposes of this story, I went with the former. As for character focus, there's a little bit of everybody in here, so enjoy!

**SHEA**

The sound of children screaming and stockinged feet dashing through the small apartment could probably be heard three floors in either direction. Edna Daniels knew she would catch hell for it later but today, she didn't care; nothing was going to ruin little Shea's eighth birthday. It was bad enough her daughter died late last year, leaving her with custody while she let the addiction finally take her, but then that no good dad of the boy's took off a week back and no one had heard from him since. Not even today.

The boy broke off from his friends and dashed over to Edna, a dizzying grin plastered on his face. "Did daddy call yet? Is he almost here?" Shea asked excitedly, practically bouncing. Edna smiled pityingly. Poor thing. She didn't have the heart to tell him his dad wasn't showing.

"Not yet baby. Now why don't you go run and take this to your little girlfriend over there?" Edna pushed a piece of cake into Shea's hands and nodded to the girl in pigtails, smoothing her skirt and turning to giggle to a friend when Shea looked in her direction.

Shea looked back to his grandmother, grinning. "Alright, I will. Hey, grandma?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Can I have that big green piece?" Shea eyed the biggest slice of her homemade cake, the one she's saved specially for him.

"'Course sweetie. You can have anything you want. Now run along."

**ERICA**

It was late, but the sounds of cars zooming down the freeway could be heard outside the dingy motel room Erica and her father had all to themselves. Erica sat in one of the chairs, a plastic tiara atop her dark hair, hands covering her eyes, though she'd already peeked enough to count the three gifts sitting on the table before her.

"Can I see yet?"

"Almost, princess." Erica's father made sure his daughter's eyes were hidden then brought out the centerpiece of their little celebration, a small chocolate cake with naught but candles for decoration. He set it down carefully and stepped back. "Alright, you can open them."

Erica pulled her hands away and surveyed her prize. Chocolate—her favorite—with five ribboned candles, one for each of her years.

"I know it's not much—"

But Erica's eyes were already lit and she launched from her chair and threw her tiny arms around her father's neck, surprise registering on the young man's face. "I love it, daddy, thank you!"

Erica's father sighed gratefully and squeezed her back. "You're welcome, princess, and I love you."

**LLOYD**

"Please mom, please don't take them back to the store! I promise I'll be good this time," Lloyd tugged on the hem of his mother's shirt. "Please let me have my gifts!"

"No, Lloyd, I gave you my warning! I told you if you didn't behave that I'd take it all back and STILL you didn't listen to me. I asked you to ask all your friends to this party I _slaved_ over putting together—"

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "I told you mom, I don't HAVE any friends!"

She threw her hands in the air. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"It does when you're 11, you live in a trailer park, and your name is Lloyd."

Agnes Lowery huffed in reply. "Another thing—I told you a thousand times not to talk back to me. You're such a snot sometimes. Maybe this is why you can't hold on to any of your friends!" She opened the door to the fridge revealing a large, fluffy cake taking up most of the top shelf. Lloyd eyed it hungrily and darted after his mother as she obstinately carried it outside to the open trash bin.

"Please, mom, don't do it!"

But she held it over the trash, looked at Lloyd sharply, and said, "And three: I asked you to clean your room. Four times. Did you clean your room, Lloyd?"

"I—" Lloyd dropped his arms to his sides. "Alright, that I did not do—"

SPLAT! The cake splattered on top of the trash and Agnes walked past him back into the trailer, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I'm sorry, Lloyd," she said as she passed her dejected son. "But I know you can do better than that."

* * *

><p>It had been a trying case—for everyone, really. Spirits were low all around, Julianne had noticed. That was one of the few upsides to her illness; it seemed she had gained a unique perspective by looking from the outside in, like peering through a window, and yet even still the drawbacks were plain. She could look, but she couldn't work up the courage to approach, and so her peers became almost more like playthings. Con, marshal, it didn't really mean much to her; they were all beyond her reach. To be looked upon but not touched.<p>

Charlie had been in a huff all day over his missing watch and now the added concern for those he was responsible for weighed heavily on his mind—Ray and his wounded leg and Erica, who was shaken from her creepy close call with the escapee, or was that something else hovering behind that mask of hers? Julianne could never quite tell with Erica.

Lloyd had been peculiarly focused today, obsessed with the details of this case, and Shea was moody and defensive as usual, ready to pounce on Charlie the moment he crafted another accusation.

And then there was the biggest presence in the room—ironically an _absence_: Bennett—the escapee. It took Julianne a moment to realize but Bennett was the first convict not to be returned to jail since this little team of theirs had formed. It was weird to think of it—missing a convict you didn't even know, but it was sort of a blow, realizing the scope of what it was they did here. And how just as easily it could have been you.

Julianne looked up from her desk as Ray approached, limping heavily from the direction of Charlie's office. "You ready to go to the emergency room?" she asked, eying his rolled-up pant leg.

"I'm not going to the hospital, Jules."

"But Charlie said—"

"Forget what Charlie said. I'm fine. Anyway, didja get it?"

"Yeah, they delivered it like ten minutes before you guys got back. You still want to do that today? Even after—?"

Ray shrugged. "Why the hell not? We're all still here, excapee's in the bag, why waste it?"

"I guess you're right. I'll go grab it now—" Julianne pushed her chair back and sneaked off to the kitchen as Ray leaned back against her desk, taking a little weight off his leg.

Inside his office, Charlie held the watch in his hand contemplatively then strode into the main room, a look of begrudging courage on his face, or maybe it was just guilt. He was going to come clean about the watch, Ray knew; before he even gave it back to the guy, he knew. There was no way St. Charlie would lie to the team. Ray would never have come clean to the cons, but he supposed that was what made the two of them work so well: two sides of the same coin.

"Listen up," Charlie spoke, rolling the watch between his fingers as three heads swiveled in his direction. "I found my watch. I left it in the bathroom; no one took it."

There was a moment of baited silence as the cons considered their desired responses to this confession. Lloyd was practically falling over himself in an attempt to supply a comeback, but Charlie interrupted before he could compose himself.

"Look, I'm sorry I accused you all of something you didn't do. I'm _sorry_. Did everyone hear that? Lloyd?"

"Yes," Lloyd sighed, looking crestfallen. "Loud and clear, boss." Erica nodded too.

"Shea?"

The convict addressed next rocked back on his heels, as if contemplating before replying, guardedly, "Yeah, I hear ya."

"Good. Now obviously I've still got a ways to go before I completely trust you guys. You've all got a long way to go before you fully earn it too; you all understand that, right?" Three sullen nods as Charlie pursed his lips, considering his next words. "But the truth is… you guys have worked really hard to get where you are right now, and you earned a little more respect than I gave you today. Not all of you may realize, but Bennett was the 12th convict our team has successfully pursued. As of today, you guys have officially earned a full year off your sentences," Charlie finished grandly, palms outstretched.

This bit of information was received differently by each con. Shea nodded, pensive but pleased, thinking of his girlfriend and how much closer their reunion seemed. Erica seemed surprised at their progress and allowed a small smile to play about her lips, but it was cut down by Lloyd, who had never once since the day their team had been assembled stopped counting down to the rapidly approaching date of his release. "Um, except for Erica, who only has eleven months because she wasn't here for our first job." At the sight of Erica's murderous glance, Lloyd shrunk in his chair. "Please don't hurt me!" he whimpered.

"ANYWAY," Charlie interrupted loudly, "Ray and Julianne and I thought you guys deserved a bit of recognition for what you're doing here, so we got you a little something. Jules—?"

From the other room, Julianne emerged, carrying a large, white cake adorned with black stripes and set it down on the table in the center of the room. Erica, Lloyd and Shea leaned in to inspect it, grinning at the sight of the ball and chain adorning its face.

"All _right_!" Shea smiled despite himself while Lloyd steepled his fingers gleefully, claiming a large corner piece with extra frosting.

"You guys should be grateful for this, you know. We're not gonna do this all the time; this is a one-time deal," Ray sniped, jabbing a finger at the team. "And don't forget to thank Jules for putting this all together, as always."

"Thank you, Jules," the trio chorused as Julianne shrugged and blushed faintly. "And thank _you_, Bennett," Lloyd added, glancing skyward, hands clasped in mock prayer.

There was a moment of silent reflection as each considered how far they'd come and wondered how far they'd go, if they would really make it all the way… The cake was only a small compensation, a down payment on the freedom they would eventually taste so much more vividly, but for now, it was the only taste they had.

It would have to do.


End file.
